A Little Harmless Fun

"I didn't say we don't serve mozzarella sticks, I said we might not have them tonight. I can check if you want."

"What about nachos?"

"We definitely have nachos. Would you like some nachos?"

"I've already had nachos tonight, what are you trying to do to me?"

I take a deep breath. "So, mozzarella sticks, then?"

"Billy?" He turns to the guy next to him. "You'll help me with some mozzarella sticks, right?"

"Frank, you made me eat potato skins with cilantro on them at that last place. These mozzarella sticks had better come with dipping sauce that contains only tomatoes and garlic, and nothing else, or I'm going home to play Jenga with Tabitha."

"Okay, whatever. Where the hell is Scott?"

"Last I saw him he was arguing with a barback about CBGB's."

"This was his idea in the first place, you know?"

I glance down at the other end of the bar, where Kira is hustling to take orders while I wait for these guys. "Hey, fellas, should I put in that order for mozzarella sticks?"

Frank turns back to me. "Yeah, and a couple of beers. Scott can fend for his own damn self."

"Any particular kind of beer?"

Frank scans the taps and the shelf of bottles in a way that makes it pretty obvious he's not actually reading very much. Billy puts a hand on his shoulder and leans toward me. "Do you have Blue Moon?"

"Yes! Blue Moon!" says Frank, and claps his hands.

"Two Blue Moons and an order of mozzarella sticks, coming up."

I stop in at the back room and ask Pat to drop the sticks in the fryer for me, and on my way back I grab the bottles of Blue Moon from the cooler, and pop them on the opener on the back of the bar.

"That's an even twenty, boys."

"For two beers and an appetizer?" Frank sways indignantly as he reaches for his wallet.

I shrug. "Blue Moon's a premium. And we're generous with the mozzarella sticks."

Billy turns to Frank. "Hell, my crappy corn dog a couple of hours ago was six bucks. Nobody said a quest like this would be cheap. But dude, you've had a lot of beer, you can probably switch to the cheap stuff and not even notice."

Frank takes a drink from his Blue Moon and squints at me. "Are you a Yankees fan?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"The Yankees cap you're wearing."

"No, Sherlock, I mean why do you want to know?"

"Because it would really piss off Sara," Frank says, and Billy laughs, dribbling a little Blue Moon on his shirt, which makes Frank start laughing, too. I use the opportunity to take my leave, and serve some other customers.

A short while later, a third guy approaches them - Scott, I assume - and after they all confer for a minute, they slowly make their way for the exit. I never did learn whom they were questing after, I realize.

NOTE: I seem to have been just a little too subtle, so I should explain... none of the above actually happened, I made up the whole thing. I just spotted their blog post on Technorati earlier this afternoon and couldn't resist having a little fun with them.

Actually Blue Moon is a Belgian-style, domestic (American)wheat beer launched in 1995 by Coors and still brewed and distributed by them to this day. It is medium bodied, unfiltered cloudy/light-colored ale with coriander/orange peel spiced flavors and a sort of sweet finish. Which makes it a great girly beer (although I know a lot of guys who like it too).It's almost as easy to drink as any other American Swill (oops, did I say that out loud?) but it has a bit more flavor, goes good with most American bar food, and I think it tastes better with a wedge of orange squeezed in.

Because it does have a sort of unique flavor, it's not everybody's "cup of tea." I like it myself, but I can see where some people would find it gross, especially if they're hopheads and are looking for that crispness or astringent aftertaste that hoppier beers provide.

If you want to try a real Belgian "Witbeer" (the style Coors is trying to mimic with Blue Moon), try a Hoegaarden, Timmermans Blanche, or Steendonk, if you can find 'em.Or try one of Belgium's many other fine styles of beer, such as a lambic or some trappist ale.